


Qualifications

by maryfic



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e06 L.D.S.K., M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little coda to the end of S1E6, L.D.S.K. How I think the scene in the plane *should* have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qualifications

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like Gideon, so his lines are attributed to Hotch in this little piece.

The plane interior was dimmed except for a few lights scattered here and there. Gideon was reading a book, ostensibly; though anyone who knew the aging profiler would know he was hyper vigilant, and if the plot was getting through it was a miracle. 

Derek tried to relax in the back of the plane, shifting uncomfortably in his suit now and then. He would never be as comfortable as Hotch in the professional attire, yet he continued to believe that he needed the image adjustment to make his way in the Bureau and to be respected. He had as many self-esteem issues as Dr. Reid, though you would never know it to look at him, or to see him work his thang on the rare days off the team enjoyed. 

The others were involved in their usual post-case de-stress rituals. Hotchner approached Reid, alone in the back of the plane, with the first aid kit. Their conversation earlier, while seemingly light-hearted, left him oddly unsatisfied. He sat down across from Spencer and opened the heavy-duty standard issue case. 

“Looks like it hurts,” he murmured quietly. 

Spencer smiled ruefully and touched the cut lip with a careful finger. “Almost more than my ribs,” he replied, meeting Aaron’s eyes with a tentative teasing look. To his immense pleasure, Hotch responded, his hands working to wet a gauze pad with fresh water and close the distance between them to clean the wound. 

It was clearly unnecessary, Spencer knew – the EMTs had done their job, and after cleaning the blood from his face and making sure he had nothing more than faint bruising from Hotch’s efforts, they had released him with a clean bill of health. So he didn’t understand why Hotch felt the need to do the same thing. 

As the senior agent breached his personal space, he inhaled and got a nose and headful of spicy scent. His memory automatically classified the scents and noted idly the pounding of his heart and sudden surge of blood through his veins – a visceral response he usually chalked up to sudden physical attraction. And then Spencer was finding it hard to focus on Hotch’s words, because he was too busy focusing on other things. 

The feel of the other man’s fingers on his jaw, gently pressing here and there. 

The coolness of the damp cloth rapidly infused with heat from their bodies. 

The pressure of Hotch’s knee between his own, making room where there had been none before. 

The fact that something was eating up all of the valuable oxygen that he was pretty darn sure was being sucked away by some sort of vacuum. 

Then, Hotch’s voice, stronger now, more insistent. 

“Spencer. Spencer? Where did you go?” 

Concern, even worry. 

He blinked several times and came face to face with Hotch’s earnest queries, the eyes that bored into unsubs now so intent on him it was scary. And, god help him, arousing. 

Gears shifted and clicked so fast in his mind smoke should have vented from him. 

“What’s the third thing?” he asked. Aaron’s face cleared and he quirked his lips, pleased that Spencer had been listening to his words; words that had come out too fast and too emotional and too inappropriate and too intimate than they should have been. 

He shifted back quickly, disposing of the trash in the under window receptacle. 

“I am proud of you,” he finished. In a much more steady, distancing, appropriate tone. 

Reid tilted his head and smiled up at Hotch as he stood, and he knew, he knew not to do it, but his hand came to rest on Spencer’s shoulder. 

Good. Shoulder was better than caressing hair that didn’t belong to him, couldn’t, and shouldn’t belong to him. 

He returned to his original seat opposite Gideon, whose eyes had never left the book. 

“How’s Haley’s bed rest going?” 

“Fine. Everything is just fine,” he said, and he would make himself believe it. 

And he would sign Spencer’s qualifying paperwork in the morning, so he could keep the backup piece. 

END


End file.
